


The Shadow of the Butterfly

by awalkinthepark



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom, Hannibal -AU, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Ambulances, Anal Fingering, Anal Orgasm, Antlers, Black knives, Carnivals, Ch. 12 is smut like usual it seems, Chilton’s clown nose, Dismemberment, Dog Walking, F/F, Fashionable admiration, Forensic Psychiatry, French Kissing, Gender minority phobia, Gender-Swapped Character, Good girls, Grooming, Hallucinations, Hanni taking charge and Will just ... letting it happen, Hannibal AU, Hen Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, Implied animal abuse, Inspired by Cirque du Soleil, Institutional Violence, Isolation, Kissing, Masturbation, Memories, Mourning Cloaks (butterfly), No bets - we die like cheese, Non-binary character, Non-consensual bathing, Non-consensual psychiatric treatment, Obsidian Stag, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sex during a snow storm, Simultaneous Orgasm, Slow Burn, Smut, Sudden violence, Survivor Guilt, Takedowns, Tears, Teeth, Terrible poetry, The shadows move, The usefulness of pity, Touch-Starved Will Graham, Trauma, Unsafe Sex, Use of chemical restraints, Vaginal Penetration, Violence, Wheelchairs, a whole lotta abandoned house in the woods hotness goin’ on!, anal penetration, but with a twist, circuses, dubious home “treatment”, hatred of the truthy tabloid press, impertinent arousals, mental illness stigma, no pre-sex negotiation, social performances, substance abuse (mention), the smoking of a cigarette, transformations, violent animal death, with disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 21,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27482419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awalkinthepark/pseuds/awalkinthepark
Summary: A Hannibal fic: a non-binary Will with viral psychosis and a female Hanni trauma surgeon; sensuous, sinuous, delicious.Experiment in non-linear story telling, aka I have no idea what I am doing but feel the need to post something before I go mad. Not sure if this will be a linear story or broken vignettes for you to puzzle together for yourselves.Will is gender non-binary; Hannibal is a woman. They both live in a coastal city on the Pacific. Will has viral psychosis at some point.My mind is in a dream-like state: piece together what I’ve written into a narrative.
Relationships: Alana Bloom & Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter, Female Hannibal Lecter/non-binary Will Graham, Let’s not get ahead of ourselves shall we?, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	1. Gravity

Hanni revelled in the raspy whisper of curls flowing over curls, drawn down by gravity and pushed into motion by a slight breeze. Will opened their eyes as the breeze chilled their cheek after running over their tresses. Their hair was only maybe six inches long but that was enough to grow out two whole loose waves of brown, enough to spread out fetchingly over a white king-sized pillow of Egyptian cotton. 

Hanni did like having the finer things up close and personal. Yet, her style was far from flouncy and feminine. Severe lines and stark contrasts, dark colours and plain surfaces, except for the wild patterns on her clothes, of course. One can’t peacock about without feathers and she was always feathering her nest, available romantic interest or not. It wasn’t that she wanted kids; she’d made sure that that was not a possibility many years previous to this one. No, her person suit required camouflage and camouflage she did. She was almost too perfect, really. But opulence blinds most to intent, as does the sinuous dance of the snake before she strikes. . .


	2. Ghost

A Weimshepherd they name Ghost is found watching from the forest. She is a shiny, smoky grey colour that blends in well with mist and shadow, hence them not noticing her at first. Will eventually does after Darling barks and bays at the forest one night some time after the cougar attack. They put out food under the yard light and she eventually comes and eats it.

...

Will owns a previously-abused red-coated Rhodesian ridgeback dog named Darling. She is their favourite and a very loyal pet. Pounces like a cat on her ball. Most of her breed are trained to do it to the backs of the necks of lions, so Will does a lot of ball tossing and very long uphill walks with her to keep her fit. If they are not available, Peter Bernadone from the stable next door makes sure she gets her exercise. 

Her “worry face” is legendary in their small neighbourhood! She has a thin, whippy, and pointed tail and a long muscular body, though it and her muzzle were somewhat shorter than average for her breed because of her pitbull grandsire. She is very attentive once something catches her attention and may not let go of something or someone until they are dead if she considers them prey or a threat to her pack. Will and Peter and his two big dogs are her pack.

Nosing and gnawing at Will for chest scritches, Darling flops her forequarters onto their feet and noses their hands and elbows for attention. She could be quite a handful with her deep roan-brown coat, kind of like Hanni’s eyes, Will thought. She snuggles with Will on the couch like a big, flexible cat. One capable of running down an antelope. Which is possible because of her stilt-like legs and piston-pumping lungs and back muscles. She may be sleek but she is strong.

Peter has keys to Will’s house and stays there with Darling overnights if Will can’t make it home. He will tend to his own animals but will check on her and take her for a run two or three times a day besides.

She has her own leather dog bed, as no other material would survive her instincts to gnaw. The small lawn was full of the consequences of her digging. Pit traps for any intruder, Will liked to joke. And since she kept digging, they had to be careful even where they stepped at times. She was okay anywhere else but the lawn she had chosen as her personal land of mayhem and mud. But she was a wonderful companion and they never feared for their safety when together in the mountains.

She even hates the snow and whines and flicks it off her paws like a cat. He has to put on her heavy coat and doggie booties to even get her out of the house on those days or just give up and take her down closer to the water where it usually isn’t cold enough for snow to stick around. She was bred for Southern Africa, not the Wet Coast’s mountains. Some allowances had to be made.

She loved it when Peter brought his two big dogs with him. They were her adopted pack and she ran about with them like they were puppies. They had tried for a walk with Peter’s whole pack but that had not ended well. Her prey instincts had taken over with the three smaller dogs and the two humans had barely avoided disaster that first and only play date. It had left them both shaken but extremely mindful of the powerful animal that Darling was. She was respectful within defined boundaries but her instincts took over anywhere outside the lines. 

Darling was perfectly suited to Will, who had done everything with all kinds of dogs, starting from when they raised pups from when they were a child, to seeing senior dogs comfortably to their graves. Darling they found at the local SPCA, after a call from the supervisor. She’d come in after an incident involving a baseball bat and her head. The perpetrator was now in jail and Jones had known Will was the person for the job to assess and help Darling to start healing. 

Of course, once Will got her home, they knew she’d never leave. She slotted right into their life, into the dog-shaped hole left by the previous set of two elderly mutts he’d gotten from an acquaintance who couldn’t take them to her new rental in town. Her own health had been failing and they were big dogs. She needed care only found in town and they were still big enough to need their forest strolls twice a day. She had come to visit them at first but both she and the dogs didn’t really survive the separation. All three were gone within the year, leaving Will with an empty house and a heart just a little bit heavier.

Darling was actually a quarter cross with a pitbull, making her unpalatable for purebred enthusiasts. Such a combination was a handful but her loyalty and protectiveness won Will over within the week. As long as she got her twice-daily half-hour bounds through the forest, she was a kitten, quiet and loving. She was even good with the occasional kids they’d meet on the trail. Even the scared ones liked her quiet dignity, melting completely if they braved a pat and got a quick lick in return. 

Peter, from the stables down the mountain in a bit of lowland, was particularly in love with her. He was 18 and already dealing with the after effects of being kicked in the head by a spooked horse. It meant that he had trouble dealing with other people and especially with making eye contact, which was just fine with them and Darling, both. The three of them would run around the meadow on good, sunny days, watching her pounce on her ball like a cat. It satisfied her lion-hunting instincts and made Will laugh every time. 

She kept them in shape, tugging her leash tight when she scented something or insisting they take the long way around the looping, rough trails. It was like being a trail runner, avec pooch. They were good for each other, making them more social, at least with Peter and the occasional hikers on the paths near their house.


	3. Cougar

The one and only time they’d had any trouble on the trail was the day the young cougar crossed their path. Will was ahead and downwind of Darling when they’d heard a small branch snap. That was the only warning they’d gotten before a tawny blur shot behind their shoulders, missing Will’s neck by an inch, if that. 

His flinch at the tiny sound and the body heat from the cougar had likely saved him from a sneak attack. And Darling was crashing through the woods like a shot a second later, having seen the big cat’s leap as she rounded the trail’s bend. The cougar tried to get up a tree but Darling made one decisive jump straight up in the air, coming down with her strong jaws on the back of the feline’s neck. It didn’t even have time to struggle, really. Its neck was broken within seconds. They had had trouble removing her jaws from around the big cat’s neck, even then. Her instinct to protect Will was not going to go away any time soon.

The conservation officer that came out to collect the body whistled through her teeth when she assessed the situation. She ran her gloved hand along the thick fur covering the cougar’s ribs, finding little, if any, meat on the bone. 

“You are darn lucky, Mr. Graham,” misgendering Will, something they were used to but still found the energy to be hurt about. She continued, blissfully unaware of her slight, even after Will had patiently explained their gender five minutes ago, “That cat is young and hungry, probably just recently weaned by its momma cat. It probably grew up on this side of the mountain, being as fearless of humans as it was. If it had gotten ahold of your neck, it would have been curtains for you. Your dog just made my life a lot easier, too: no justification needed to the local Peta people and other animal militants needed.” 

She patted Darling on the head and then bent down to give her a good jowl and neck rub. “This one’s a keeper. Saved you from a second attack, she did! Yeah, didn’t you, girl?!” Darling ate up the attention, still licking bits of the big cat’s blood off of her own muzzle around the loving from the officer. 

Will had waved goodbye with Darling by their side as the woman pulled her work truck backwards out of his gravel driveway. 

“Good dog,” they’d said, quietly, leading her back to the outside tap on the side of the house to get the rest of the blood off their saviour. Darling, wide doggie grin on her face, pranced lightly by their side. Instinct is a wonderful thing, Will thought, proud and relieved at the same time. “Let’s go home, girl.”

...

Peter meets Hanni and is scared of her, mainly because she would have no qualms about having him committed for life if it suited her. He could smell it on her like a bad perfume, the willingness to use the powers at her disposal (all seen in one, brief moment of eye contact—Peter has a complex grasp of the animal and he sees Hanni’s basic ferality; he recoils as if struck and continues to tremble until she leaves). 

He warns Will not to trust her. Will brushes it off at first but eventually some event happens and they recall what Peter said in their mind, right before Hanni clocks Will and drags them off to a quiet, dark corner of the hospital to find out what they know once and for all. Will is not pleased with such treatment from her and berates themself for not listening to the kind, insightful, and stuttering voice of Peter.


	4. Tenderness

She held them tightly to her, enveloping their slightly smaller shoulders in her strong arms. They melted into the embrace, giving in, with a combination of fatigue and skin hunger taking over before they consciously realized it. 

They had been lonely for a long, long time. Hanni was one of the few people that they could just be with without being overcome by the other person’s feelings. Like they could be with Alana. Will found thinking about them both in a similar context to be disconcerting. Was there something similar about them? 

The thought was quite literally crushed out of them the next moment by Hanni squeezing them just a little bit tighter, like she had felt it when their attention was wandering. Will felt the squeeze and fell back into Hanni’s warmth and nuzzled their neck into her cheek, grazing the surprisingly soft skin there with their facial stubble. Hanni’s breath caught and they both noticed her reaction.

“Sorry, I . . .”

“No, Will. You did not do anything wrong. I . . . just liked the sensation, that is all.”

The quiet piano music continued softly in the background. Their embrace deepened and became less desperate, Will burrowing their cheek and chin into the spot where Hanni’s neck met her shoulder. They sighed out a shaky breath and just clung there for a long, long time, both of them taking in long draws of each other’s scent. 

...

It had worked out exactly as Hanni had planned. But she had not expected to be so . . . affected by them. She found that her heart had melted, just a little. She found herself wanting just a little more of their scent. She did not get the clothes she had worn that day drycleaned immediately that week. She hung them in her walk-in closet on one hanger, keeping them together and coming back to scent them again and again over the coming days. 

It was disconcerting to her to be so drawn to another person. She had thought she was not capable of such things. But apparently she was. She kept thinking of ways for them to cross each other’s paths during the week, standing appointments in her newly renovated home office notwithstanding. Jack and the rest of the medical and allied staff were so accommodating to her requests to be in Will’s presence, really medically necessary—or not. Delightfully disturbing would be how she would describe her feelings for Will. They were affecting how she planned her time. That would not do. She needed to transition into Psychiatry soon before all her preparations were lost. 

Alana moving into the top spot had helped—their relationship had always been a secret because of the pearl-clutchingly old-fashioned morality of some of the board members of the hospital and in some of the charities they were socially involved in within the city. Their camouflage was assisted by this but Hanni detested their unevolved notions in this area. Her pursuit of pleasure had no gendered boundaries, much to the distaste and sometimes hate of many people in her past. Many of those people, especially the ones with a prurient interest in her kissing and embracing another woman in their view, had ended up gracing Hanni’s table over the years. They had better taste as entrees than as living, breathing human entities.

...

“Please, let me die the death that only sleep can give, Will.” And with those whispered words, Hanni fell asleep, her cheek brushing her lover’s and eventually falling to their shared pillow. She was exhausted from a seventeen-hour surgical shift, one planned and two emergency surgeries all in a row. The fact that Hanni let herself fall asleep before Will was a near miracle; she would not have been that careless with any other human being on the planet. It was a sign how much she was slipping under Will’s spell, after she had lured them so purposely for months towards herself. Analysis will come later; sleep, now.

Will found themself just listening to Hanni breathe for a while. They knew better than to touch her while she slept—and motion to that effect woke her immediately, though she tried to hide the fact, even from someone as innocuous as Will believed themself to be. They wondered why Hanni always had to be in such control all the time. What had happened to her in the past to put her so on alert all the time? That was their last thought before they drifted off to sleep, too, one hand under their own cheek and the other balanced down over their own hip. Keeping carefully away from the one person who had eventually so captured their attention.


	5. Poetry

Poetry of Will for Hanni:

“Something unethical,   
Always antithetical,  
This drawing you in with textual,  
Inclinations   
Of mine. . .”

The doggerel rhymes went on for another five stanzas, nearly deteriorating into outright pornography at the end. These little drabbles of words Will was scrawling into their phone for her, each line with a capital at their beginnings. It was endearing and they were atrocious and Hanni preened with each letter and syllable. She had them almost where she wanted them but not quite there. Yet.

“I really must read them a better quality of poetry, to get them to empathize with the poets like Catullus & Keats, and hopefully influence their own works!” she sighed with happy exasperation. But would the resulting words have more charm or less? Ever the experimenter, she endeavoured to sate her curiosity.

...


	6. Bones

Both have a fixation on fossils (Will on invertebrates and Hanni on ammonites and large predators); both have cause one rainy day to visit the Beece University bone lab. Hanni was there there to authenticate some recently-acquired cave bear teeth and Will just to chew the fat and plan their next hike with the biologist in charge.

Hanni sees Will exit the lab’s door, them studiously not making eye contact and her studying them intensely, as they literally cross each other’s paths. It is not until they formally meet and are introduced as they are being treated at the ER that she takes a greater and more invasive interest in them.

They were dealing with the investigation of an unusual animal death. Human dental marks on an animal being extremely unusual, the tooth marks were noticed by an alert vet doing a necropsy for a local animal welfare organization. As a freelance forensic investigator, Will was called into a variety of situations, from odd animal deaths to rancorous divorce cases to police and higher law enforcement agency cases. This one was already publicized in Lounds’ sensationalistic crime rag, under the heading “Man Bites Dog, to Death!”. A little juvenile for Freddie, they thought to themself. No accounting for some tastes. 

Their trips to the bone lab always made them hungry for some unexplainable reason. Stomach grumbling unhappily, Will bolted out of the bone lab’s door, almost running into a very tall, Amazonian woman in a garishly plaid three piece suit. They narrowly missed bumping shoulders as she slowed almost to a stop at the door. 

Will averted their eyes and focused on getting out of the building as soon as possible. They did not notice the acute attention the woman paid their awkwardly-gaited self. Scrutiny was something that Will avoided at all costs and the woman’s gaze was thwarted as they hunched their shoulders up around their ears and slipped quickly around the corner to the stairs. 

Interesting, she thought, adjusting her bowtie to perfection before entering the now open wooden door to the lab. A very interior. . . man? The hair was rather long and curly, so it was hard to tell as the figure retreated down the hallway and disappeared. One hand up to consciously smooth her hair down, she entered the office. 

“Dr. Lecter, I presume?” chirped the occupant, already in good cheer from Will’s short visit, with whom he had just planned a fossil-hunting hike. He took in her outfit and expressed surprise. “Five shades of green and a paisley bowtie and it still works? Are you sure you aren’t an academic? Philosophy department, maybe?”

Hanni let out a genuine laugh at that one, lips curving up into Joker-like grin. “No, just a surgeon looking to become a psychiatrist! Though I do write the occasional paper so that my experiences may be of use to others. Service to others is a fine way to spend one’s life, is it not?”

Cheeks reddening at the witty repartee, the biologist caught himself before he giggled. “Yes, of course.”

Sensing his discomfort, Hanni moved onto business, taking a neatly-wrapped package out of the finely-wrought soft leather satchel at her hip. He received the bundle and placed it gently onto the last bit of spare space on his desk, carefully taking off the foam and tissue paper covering. Specimen uncovered, the man exclaimed, “Yes! What a fine set of cave bear teeth. To whom did you say you were giving them?”

“Oh,” Hanni said. “A new patient of mine with an interest in anatomy. Ancient carnivore anatomy to be precise.”

“I am sure they’ll be delighted,” he said, sitting down to examine them more carefully with a loupe obtained from the small pile of equipment farther up the desk.

“I like to encourage my patients, especially the young ones, in their career interests,” she said, keeping her distance from the interested but distracted academic.

“Me, too. Me, too,” he replied. “I just had a herd of artists from a local collective in here on Monday, doing sketches of some of our bird and bone specimens. Some of them were excellent. Almost like they could leap off the page.”

“Really? How fascinating. I admit that my anatomical sketches gained me early admission to my first residency in North America. I happen to have one of my oldest sketchbooks with me today. Would you like to see?”

“Oh, yes. Please.”

And then they were off and running, Hanni searching the bones on display and him poring over her detailed pencil drawings.


	7. Careers

They are taken by ambulance off a commuter transit bus one morning, thrashing about weakly, strapped to a gurney as they are pushed through the outer doors in the ER at Hen Hospital. Their movements and moaning and half-hearted shouting about the bus going off a cliff attract Hanni’s attention as she trolls for the cases best suited to show her talents and keep her stats up as a surgeon. It had been bothering her recently about the number of patients that a trauma surgeon loses on average per year and she had consequently been looking into starting a psychiatry residency, accelerated of course, with the help of the current head of the department at Hen, Dr. Chilton. 

She had had Chilton and her surgical colleague, Dr. Abel Gideon, wrapped around her little finger since her first week at the hospital. She had pretended to be lost and had seen them having coffee together in the large, multi-story glass foyer. She knew exactly who they were and the layout of the hospital, as she had been studying maps and staff lists for months before she’d even chosen to apply here. 

And the orderlies, cleaners, and nursing staff had been impressed with her glamourous and audaciously plaid ensembles and were very forthcoming with answers to her directed questions about their own families, after she would compliment them on the little touches on their own outfits. The women, especially, were drawn to her fashion sense, like moths to a flame, even with it half-hidden under her white, fitted lab coat. Even her scrubs were tailored and in patterns that sought to comfort and reassure stressed families and staff. Her person-suit was thought out down to the last detail, with her heels just tall enough to make her slightly taller than the male staff but not too tall for daywear. At five feet, ten inches, she was model-tall and statuesque, hiding her well-toned muscles under feminine clothing. 

She’d had brief relationships with a number of other staffers and had only recently caught the eye of one Dr. Alana Bloom, who had transferred in to do a Fellowship in Psychiatry the previous October, when the person who’d won it had fallen ill and could no longer continue their program. 

...

Bev is the OR coordinator for Hen Hospital, where she and Hanni work. She sets the daily surgical schedule and adjusts for emergency cases from inside and outside the hospital. From gruesomely gored MVA victims and angioplasties gone horribly wrong, she choreographs the placement of live bodies and inanimate facilities flawlessly. Yet still, they did lose people, even with all their efforts and the latest technologies, even though they were the biggest hospital in their major political jurisdiction. 

Price and Zeller work under her as her most trusted pre- and post-op orderlies, getting patients efficiently and effectively shunted to where they needed to be, when they needed to be there. And Hanni would order Chinese food for everyone when she did surgeries on afternoons, garnering her fans from the nursing staff to the orderlies. 

She was even respected by her male colleagues, surgery being an old-boy’s network when she first arrived at the hospital a decade ago. With all the new hires since then, many more women, Indigenous persons, and people of colour had been more recently employed. The surgical staff actually reflected the population that it served, no mean feat in a colonial country. It had taken time and many, many meetings and policies but they were just about spot on representationally, something for which Hanni quietly took some of the credit.


	8. Cold

“It feels like September,” Will said, shuddering from the cold montaine air. At that moment they heard the full-throated honking flowing over the room of the cabin-like house. Will sipped their coffee slowly; Hanni admired how their throat worked to process the liquid she had brought to them. 

Hanni could feel the chill in the air. She thought about wrapping a hand around that throat and squeezing, curious to see what would happen. Will’s voice shook her out of her brief fantasy. “The geese are back in the park early; it’s going to be an early and hard winter this year.”

Will’s knowledge of the natural world never ceased to impress Hanni. She admired it, compared it with her own knowledge, acquired during her own upbringing in Denmark. Nights on the lake or the sea, staring up at the endless stars. Hunting in the woods with their father, at least up until a certain point. That point was behind locked doors in her memory palace. It was the reason that she’d had her tubes tied early; no one would have that kind of threat of control over her again, nor in any way like it. 

She’d grown strong with training under her uncle’s tutelage, her aunt’s benevolent indifference, and her excellent medical education. Medicine as a career and as a skillset meant that she could go anywhere in the world and still be employed, even revered, if the conditions were right and she controlled the situation just enough. Women looked up to her, asked the advice of the well-travelled woman from beyond their borders. Men were intrigued, just enough, and feared her, slightly, to be malleable in her controlling grip. Some hated her, to be sure. But keep your enemies closer had always been her motto. And the ignorant mollified.


	9. Masks

Will’s overt psychosis upon entering the hospital was so loud that the entire ER noticed when they were brought in. Even the security guards from the next ward down the hall came running after hearing the ruckus.

Chilton, of course, was immediately exposed and his misdiagnosis almost cost him his life. Alana, then, was almost immediately promoted when Chilton got sick. She was the only one available with experience running even a small, whole mental institution by herself, due to chronic lack of funding in the mental health system. It was a forensic one, which were notoriously more difficult to manage, so her skills were given more credence than the man in the running who had worked at a lower level for years at Hen. 

Of course, Alana had been secretly undermining his authority for the months since her arrival, assessing him as the most credible threat to her potential power at the institution. Small jabs behind his back with their mutual colleagues and some in the rest of the hospital, and getting the nursing staff on her side, nudging the schedules around to accommodate their personal lives had ingratiated her with them. And any other thing she could do to destabilize his personal life was just icing on the cake of his demise. (His steaming trail of hot but unstable boyfriends made gossip at Hen very interesting.) Broken just enough to not complain when she got the promotion, no longer even believing he could handle so much responsibility, he was glad to stay at his current level by that time, even worrying about his ability to do that work anymore. Oh, she was good at what she did, professionally trained in it or not!

...

They’d had enough time now to recognize that they were no longer on the bus. Acclimatizing to their new surroundings, Will had started to withdraw. Eventually they stopped responding to questions, a vacant look taking over their face and a certain stiffness to their posture. Will held the paper with the instructions and the bottle of pills in their hands but with a vacant look in their blue eyes. There seemed to be nothing going on behind them at the moment. 

But Hanni thought to herself, “But there will be. You will turn out to be very interesting, Mr. Graham.” Will gets misgendered at the ER but does not notice until some two days later in the isolation ward, when they come back to a tenuous grasp on reality. But by then, everyone, including Freddie Lounds, refers to them as Mr. Graham and the damage is done. It picks away at them and they choose their objections carefully when correcting others about it.

At that moment, the orderly with the gurney arrived and Hanni helped the now almost-catatonic Will onto it, strapping their now pliant body down onto it, left arm still bent and clutching the printed paper awkwardly in their hand, right strapped down flat with the pills. “You will be very interesting, indeed,” she mused, as they were taken off to the infectious disease ward at her command, directly contradicting Chilton’s orders.

The orderly would probably die afterwards from the sustained, unprotected contact but that was not Hanni’s concern right now, her own mask, gloves, face shield, and paper gown her only protections. “Good thing I had my glasses and face shield and N95 mask on when he was crying or the droplets from his fluttering, thick and dark wet lashes may have gotten in my eyes.” She would do a full de-contamination procedure on herself before informing that ward to put them into infectious disease isolation and why. But not before taking care of herself first. Just like on an airplane, secure your own mask first . . .


	10. Distraction

“Will? Are you still with me? Will?”

“What? Oh, sorry Dr. Lecter. What did you say?—“

”Will, it was you who were speaking and you stopped mid-sentence.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes, Will. Maybe now would be a good time to stop today’s session? A rest may be in order.” 

“Okay. Goodnight, Dr. Lecter,” they said, gathering up their coat and quickly heading to the door, their embarrassment raging across their cheeks in a maddeningly hot blush. 

Hanni was entranced for a full second before she took even swifter action, blocking the smaller person’s quick exit from her office. “I think maybe I should drive you home. I do not believe that you are capable of operating a motor vehicle safely right now, Will. I have sewn up many a person that thought they were fit to drive.”

At that, a wince flickered across Will’s face, followed by a grimace. Perhaps the good doctor had a point. Their shoulders, which had worked their way up to their ears with the tension of being caught out and then the thwarting of their possible escape of the awkward social situation, relaxed a little. Will was not looking forward to the drive in the dark, especially with today’s heavy rain.

“But what about my car?” 

“I know the person on shift in the parkade tonight. We can drop by to secure it with them overnight while we go to my car. You can pick it up tomorrow.” 

“Alright. I have to get back to feed and walk Darling. She’ll be waiting for me.” 

“Ah, a responsible pet owner you are. I can make sure you are both safe tonight.” 

With that, they both collected themselves and their things and set off for the long journey to Will’s cabin.

...

“Why can’t i think anymore, Hanni? I just sit there, no thoughts in my head and then suddenly it’s an hour later and Darling is sitting on my feet with her head in my lap and I can’t remember anything I was just reading in the papers on my desk for work. I don’t, I just...”

Will looked on the verge of tears before wiping both hands up and down their face, scrubbing their glasses up awkwardly up on one side. Hanni got up and moved elegantly around the desk and resettled their glasses back upon their nose. 

“Will, look at me.” Those big, watery blue eyes looked up at Hanni like some saint in pain in a work by a Renaissance master or mistress. Hanni’s reaction was calculated, though a little slow, as she set the scene into her memory palace for later adoration. Outwardly, she let out a small breath and took both of Will’s agitated hands in her own two calm ones. 

She took advantage of the fact that people were less likely to react negatively to a woman’s touch, getting close in to their personal space. Will tried, weakly, to retrieve their hands but eventually gave in, their expression wavering closer to tears as they barely maintained eye contact. This required Will’s head to be tilted up to Hanni’s where she towered over them; she could see the muscles in their neck strain with the position. They resisted the urge to wipe the tears from their eyes again and eventually blinked first and looked down, relaxing their hands into her firm but gentle grip. 

“That’s it Will. Close your eyes, wade into the quiet of the stream.” Will’s stuttering breaths calmed after a few minutes of this hand-holding. Hanni was certain that she now had the control of Will that she had planned. Will kept their eyes shut, lips slightly parted, until Hanni stopped her quiet murmurings about the stream and let go of their hands. She swore that she heard a small whimper escape those soft-looking, flushed lips right then. But Will’s lashes fluttered open, they muttered an apology for nothing at all, and fled the room.


	11. Satiation

Hanni totally loves helping Will with these aspects of their recurring illness, resulting in making Will more socially isolated than a loner and virus-sufferer like them would already be. Feeding them and making sure they bathe was most important to her mind. 

During one of Will’s acute relapses at her house, she is “forced” to clean them up afterwards, instead of bringing them to hospital like most people would. Will comes back to themself while Hanni is doing their legs before washing their genitals and behind. They have not been physically intimate at this point and Will starts blushing furiously down to their erect nipples! They even start physically resisting a bit but Hanni gently restrains Will, remaining clinical even as Will gets partly hard. 

Will flinches as Hanni brings the washcloth upwards over their partly-erect member. 

“Ah! Dr. Lecter, please let me—“

She stops their objecting hand mid-movement, saying, “Will—you’ve had a shock. This is a relapse. I’ve had to take you upstairs to the master bath to clean you up. Nothing inappropriate is happening here. I have done this before during my training.” 

What she does not say was that it was during her Dominance and service BDSM training at a particularly delightful kink college on the outskirts of Paris. Doctors don’t bathe their patients, nurses do, but Will doesn’t need to know that.

Will relents and drops their hand back down below the waterline, visibly still tense but giving in, at least for the moment. Hanni does a very good job of cleaning their penis and scrotum, stretching back their foreskin and lifting their testicles, scrubbing their perineum a little too long and hard before moving to give their anus and buttocks loving attention. 

Of course, she gets them to lean their chest forward onto her right arm to spread their lower cheeks wide to complete her attentions to their nether regions. They try to tense up but eventually lean into her embrace, grateful for the human touch even weeks after their medical isolation in hospital. 

When Hanni lays them back against the sloping far end of the tub, breaking their embrace, Will whimpers slightly, the sound quietly nasal in quality. Hanni makes no comment on her prey’s neediness, noting the fullness of their erection before moving on to their ankles. She draws the wash cloth around each one, scrubbing gently around the bony parts and then moving down and getting in between each pair of toes. 

Will relaxes a little more before Hanni catches them in her web with another well-aimed comment, “An erection is nothing to be ashamed of, Will. Friction can cause a physical reaction.”

Of course, Will’s drooping eyelids spring open at this point, embarrassment colouring their skin a rather fetching shade of crimson all the way to their belly. “I—“ they manage to get out before Hanni interrupts again.

“Nothing to be ashamed of at all. Just relax now, Will. You’ve had a trying day so far. Rest a bit in the bath. I have some night clothes on the bathroom chair, towels on the rack. The bed in the guest room is turned down.” 

She begins to wring out the washcloth at that point, muscles playing across her forearms, bared by the folded-back sleeves of her starched dress shirt. Of course, she let small, cooler drops of water drip down on their exposed nipples in the process in a calculated tease. Will’s lips parted at that but they detected no intent as they surreptitiously watched Hanni focus her attention on placing the cloth to dry on the far end of the tub with the taps and spout. 

“If you need any help, just call out. I will be downstairs starting dinner.”

“Okay,” Will breathed out, letting their eyes fall closed against the steam from the still-hot water.

“Hanni?” they said suddenly, right as she was shutting the door.

“Yes, Will?”, she said, one hand on the steam-slick door handle, moisture making the front of her shirt translucent from Will’s view. She smiled slightly as they made eye contact briefly.

Will quickly looked away and down towards the soap on the far wire rack. “Uh, thank you. For all your help. Today I mean—“

Hanni put them out of their awkward misery quickly, with a grinning “You’re welcome, dear Will”, turning the bathroom light lower before leaving and closing the door. Far on the other side of the door, on her way downstairs, she knew exactly what Will would be doing with their slowly-acquired erection while she started the marinade downstairs. It is too bad I won’t be there to help, she thought. But then, positive reinforcement takes time and repetition. There would be plenty of time for her personal attention later.

...

Back in the bathroom, Will finally let themself slump their shoulders against the back of the tub and let their head fall forward, small drips falling from the tips of their curls and plipping into the bath waters below. Oh, what a thing, they thought. Hanni is hot and her hands on me, must have been all over me before I’d come back to myself. 

Their erection bobbed in the water at that point, making a ring of outward-spreading ripples in the water, muscles rarely used clenching at the memory of leaning into Hanni’s arm as she washed them down there, the slight scent of her potent expensive perfume mixing with her soap and shampoo on them and the humidity of the air. The scents clung to their nose and body, enveloping them in an herbal symphony of darker notes, sandalwood and other earthier notes among them.

Will grasped their engorged member firmly and started to pull up and down slowly, wanting to draw out the sensations as long as possible but still mindful that the cause of those sensations was still in the house. The water lapped gently for a time before starting to move rapidly to their hand motions, when Will could no longer bear to draw things out. 

They came with a loud gasp soon after, not wanting to draw Hanni’s attentions down in the kitchen but not knowing just how much sound carried through the plush and starkly opulent surroundings. Sunlight from the high window above played across their heaving chest afterwards, small bergs of come floating around them and then descending onto their skin if the surface tension broke. They finally relaxed most of the way then, if still feeling a little filthy for sitting in their own spooge-laden bath water.

They let the water drain from the tub afterwards, feeling it inch its way slowly down their skin, hovering as it drew down the clefts and crevices of their dick, balls, and ass. Some times it felt right to have the former two parts, like today, and some times it didn’t. But a little heat from the filtered winter sunlight on their skin and the tickle from the retreating waters made them feel good, really good. They let their gaze drop to their distant toes, which were splashing quietly in the last puddles of the draining water. They let their eyelids droop and knees straighten out for a minute. 

A short time later, they awoke with a start, the patch of sunlight having moved off their body and down across the floor. Need a rinse, they thought. Drawing the shower curtain around the freestanding but modern tub, they made note of the clothes and towels Hanni had set out for them but couldn’t see their glasses anywhere. Have to ask her, they thought, turning on the shower head and running their hands quickly over themself under it, trying to get the last of their own semen off of themself. Hanni’s sense of smell seemed acute but Will was actually good at getting clean if they applied themself. And remembered to do it between working on cases and taking care of the dogs and not sleeping. 

They sighed and finished up, pulling on some ridiculously expensive silk pyjamas that were slightly large for them and that smelled suspiciously of Hanni’s perfume. Will threw on a thick, dark robe, knotted the tie, and went sleepily in search of the guest bedroom.


	12. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut

(Fri. Nov.13/20) 

The overwhelming stench of house mould, peppered with the intermittent scent of storm-weathered wood, hit them as they pushed the broken front door aside and entered the abandoned house. The winter wind whistled through the cracks and crevices of the rotting house as a few large flakes of snow could be seen slanting past the ancient glass of the windows. 

The house was far enough into the mountains to be away from humanity but there were still creatures that would break in the door in search of food. One dusty window even held the imprint of an unfortunate bird that had made a full-body and wing impact upon it some years ago, its feather oil outline attracting more grime as time wore on. The stuffing from the furniture was strewn across the space, much of it missing and now turned into nesting material for whatever wild creatures that crawled and flew into its path. Will noticed the layer of rodent urine underlying the many scents of the house. They wrinkled their nose at it.

Darling was dancing on the end of her lead, nose open to all the newness of the old house’s scents. Will held her tight. Ghost was still heeled behind Hanni, her lead slack. She knew the pecking order and let the older dog and the humans lead the way. She was still just happy to be fed and walked and cleaned, still happy just for the company. She leaned a little into Hanni’s dark pearl grey overcoat, waiting for direction. Hanni pointedly looked at her and she returned her gaze. Hanni gave her a quick pat on the head and returned her attention to Will. 

She was surprised that Will wanted to explore such a ruin of a house on their walk with the dogs. For a place so close to a road and trail, it seemed odd that its deterioration was so lacking in human interference. No graffiti, barely a broken window. But maybe Will had a nose for finding places where people weren’t; that gave Hanni some comfort, though she did not know quite why. She would have to set aside some time to think on it. 

Will took in the dilapidated furniture, some overturned and some still upright, one small, round wooden pedestal table even with a blown glass vase perched upon it. Will approached and found the dry and crispy remains of a wilted flower plastered to its far side. An errant thorn pricked their thumb as they touched it. Will flinched back at the tiny prickle, knowing it would take a while for the sharp bit of vegetation to work its way out of their skin. They drew their hand towards their mouth to suck the blood off but Hanni intervened, eyes drawn to the burst of bright red in the old grey of the faded house. Hanni made short work of the drop of blood with her own mouth, eyes on Will’s as she suckled on their finger for good measure. She caught the sharp breath that Will took right then and stored it away quickly in her mind palace. What followed next would remain a close second for her to savour in years to come.

Will took her cheek in their other, gloved hand, the sueded leather over the underlying insulation catching slightly as it brushed over her face. They looked at each other intensely, eyes narrowing, a pinch between Will’s brows sending a question as they turned their head slightly to one side and then the other while licking their bottom lip, eyes observing Hanni’s own expression. The hairs of Hanni’s barely-there brows flew down over her lids, eyes flashing a predatory look first at Will’s gaze and then at their lips and exposed, wet tongue. She looked ready for a second taste, one of equal intimacy to the first. 

Darling had pulled away from Will’s grasp when they had gone over to the wooden table and removed one of their gloves; now she was snuffling farther into the house, like she had caught the scent of something small and warm and tasty. Only the sound of her claws scratching on the old wood floor and the brush of her water-resistant doggy coat on other objects whispered through the air back to the humans. No sound of pouncing could be heard yet but Will couldn’t bring themself to care at this point. Ghost stood by the humans, her lead dropped from Hanni’s hand when she had silently lunged toward’s Will’s rich-scented life’s blood. Such a violent reaction for such a small drop and yet . . .

Hanni lunged again, this time for Will’s lips. Their lips pressed together and Will’s tongue reached forward and twisted into her own, seeking a familiar iron taste and the newer one that was Hanni’s own. Hanni’s hand went up to Will’s curls and clutched possessively down through them to the scalp, keeping them taut in her hold. The action melted Will with a shudder down their spine, giving into the grip like they had never done so before. It just felt—right—somehow. Their body molded to the one in front of them and they let their mouth fall wider open for Hanni to take what she wanted of them. And take, Hanni did.

Nudging a confused and sniffling Ghost aside, Hanni kept her grip on Will’s hair and lips and tongue, exploring Will’s luscious and soft and wet mouth with her own. As the snow became less intermittent and more slanting outside, she gently lay Will down onto the hardness and dust and fluff of the wood of the floor, still clutching their hair in one hand, their hip in the other, and their tongue between her teeth. She straddled their waist with her hips, friction riding hip bone on one side at first, then swelling member under coat and jeans next as she righted and centred herself over them. 

Will pressed themself bodily up into her embrace, seeking their own fulfillment between Hanni’s lips and breasts. Will let out a soft moan out of their nose, having finally drawn in enough breath to make a sound. Hanni took it as a sign that she was not doing enough to keep Will busy and started undoing the front of Will’s outfit with one hand, the other still firmly in the other’s hair at the back of their head. As Hanni pulled back enough to search for the top of the zipper, Will gasped in again and pushed out a high whine before closing their eyes again and just letting whatever this was just happen. They could vaguely hear both dogs in a distant room, knocking something over loudly. That’s the last thought they would have for them for some time.

Hanni methodically unzipped Will’s winter jacket, languidly pushing aside the puffiness until only the scarf and shirt underneath remained. She briefly took both hands to undo the scarf, her lower body pressing down firmly into Will’s. Will moaned and arched their neck then, eyes still closed but hands still seeking skin, one bared hand on Hanni’s cheek and one warm one following down Hanni’s spine to the softness of the nape of her neck. 

Hanni revealed one of Will’s taut nipples and suckled there, hard, making them gasp like a leaping fish does just before returning to the coldness of the water. Hanni’s other hand returned to the hair above the nape of their neck and kept a strong grip there, holding the perfect arch that Will had formed. Her lips moved up under the corner of their chin and began a slow descent, sucking and licking and kissing her way down toward the other unattended peak, marking Will as her own. 

Will squirmed their lower body, seeking friction, rubbing their narrower hips up under Hanni’s wider ones. Hanni could feel the wetness building there but stilled her hips over theirs, saying “Not yet, mylimasis.” Will strained for a moment but then quieted their movements for a time as Hanni resumed her ministrations.

She licked roughly once over their second nipple, pointedly ignoring whatever caused the second crash in a more distant room this time. Her attention was caught on her prey and was not going to give them up that easily, not after so long a hunt. She undid the rest of the buttons on Will’s green flannel shirt one-handed, the clear blue of Will’s eyes exposed as they opened them and breathed quickly in the cold air, skin goosebumping with the chill. Hanni pushed her hand past the last of Will’s shirttails, down into the warmth of their pants, trapping it under their waistband. She sought out their hardening member and gripped it firmly once before diving down farther, caressing their balls in the close quarters. Will strained to look down and Hanni let them, let them see her hungry look while she squeezed their most tender parts, hard. Will gasped and their brows drew together in the most exquisite expression of torture then, lashes falling down over cheeks only partly obscured by glasses half-off and crooked. 

Hanni smiled to herself and let her hand do a slow crawl back up to their lips, touching them briefly before parting them, pliant now, for her and only her. She pushed them between their teeth as the front door creaked on its hinges in the increasing howl and swirl of the snowfall outside. Some large flakes were now floating in, landing on Will’s skin. They shivered as they touched and melted on their skin as Hanni worked her fingers over Will’s saliva-soaked tongue, gathering moisture for the work ahead. Will panting, despite the obstruction in their mouth, need for contact overwhelming their need for air. Hanni stroked the softness of their tongue languidly, knowing more uses for such a soft and willing instrument. But not for now, not yet.

She withdrew her now sopping hand from their mouth and her other hand from their hair, shifting her body to the side for more leverage. Will stayed where they were, legs falling apart, head back on the floor, torso exposed to the cold and snow. Hanni slipped her hand again into their pants, sliding and sticking in equal measure. Will winced once as some tiny bit of skin caught on Hanni’s bracelet on the way down, wet hand in warm pants, seeking its ultimate destination. 

She levered her wrist up against the inside of their jeans and pushed one digit inside them, roughly. They jerked and moaned, shivering slightly from the cold and from the heat between them. Will writhed slowly as she worked one, then two, then three fingers slowly in and out of their tightly-puckered entrance. It was an awkward position but Will was ready for anything at this point and Hanni wanted and wanted and Hanni took. The moment she found their prostate, Will just yelled, loud and inarticulate. Their member strained against their pants and Hanni’s crushing forearm, making Will feel contained and enveloped and helpless against her continued attentions. They gripped and clawed at Hanni, wherever they could get a purchase, so out of their mind and in their body. Words were lost and only sensation followed.

Hanni stroked and poked and prodded until her hands and forearms burned with the twin efforts of pulling more pleasure out from one side and clutching their lower back upwards with the other. Groans and moans and inarticulate cries issued forth unbidden from Will’s mouth. Absolutely nothing about this was under their control now nor would ever be again. She slowed down for a moment and Will took a shaky breath and then another. They made eye contact, briefly, as Will raised their head, a pleading expression on their angelic and debauched face, toque off, curls askew, cheeks blazing red hot, radiating heat into the cold, cold air that surrounded them. 

She went in for the kill then, overstimulating them with her hands, even pushing her fingers to part their cheeks from the back as well as to push in and stroke from the front. As their  
breaths grew more ragged and erratic, she stroked just that much harder and then they were falling, falling over that edge. Will came in their pants, all over themself and Hanni’s arm, even a bit onto their lower abdomen. It squelched obscenely as Hanni removed her hand elegantly from their pucker, slid up past their balls and softening member, and exited the stiffness of their jeans. She held her slick hand and forearm up to their mouth and had them clean her up between their panting breaths, not one to waste any part of her Will. 

The dogs, who were sitting there, planted and wide-eyed, on the other side of the room, gave a little whine at this, licking their own, now blood-covered chops. She let Will come slowly back to themself, her own wetness a testament to how much she was going to enjoy their time together in the future. But for now, she would get her little mongoose and their pets back to their cabin in the woods before the increasing snow outside made that an impossible thing.


	13. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call and response, Hanni-style.

“Mead is good and good mead is excellent, especially in comparison to other alcoholic liquids,” says Hanni, a slight smile quirking up one corner of her mouth. She thinks back to her childhood in Europe and how their parents used to give she and her younger brother little sips of the honey-coloured drink from their own glasses. Mead was not drunk from their collection of fine, European lead crystal but from other vessels that were more appropriate to the festival being celebrated. She remembered one festival where it was drunk from a drinking horn, ornate carvings in the silver tip and band across its widest point, joined together by a silver chain, which was itself festooned with red ribbons.

Will takes in Hanni’s expression at this point. Her eyes have softened and have a distant look in them, an unusual shape for them to take, her facial style being more businesslike, with occasional short forays into eyebrow-arching irony. Will’s own expressions are so multitudinous and flexible that they are surprised that their features stay attached to their own face sometimes. Beaming smiles are rare but genuine, framed by a riot of curls, microexpressions of distain and distaste are frequent and quickly hidden behind a mask of seeming distance and distraction. Or the frames of their glasses. Lately, “rictus of pain” and “wild-eyed crazy person” are warring for top spot. 

Will’s thoughts run amok: Why did I have to catch the latest contagion? Why is Freddie Lounds focusing her laser-like attention on my misfortune? Doesn’t she have another ambulance to chase? Will’s face crumples into a wince of emotional pain as their internal “poor me” train picks up speed.

At this point, Hanni returns her gaze, inner and outer, back to Will. Noticing their almost whole-body botherment from whatever is crossing their mind, she takes one of their hands in hers and then draws one up one of her hands to take hold of one of their shoulders. Their flesh radiates heat through the encasing flannel and into the pads of her fingers and thumb. She gives their shoulder a fond squeeze and then withdraws her hand. 

Will startles, like they had been in their own little, unpleasant world somewhere. The touches ground them back into their physical reality, Hanni still holding their hand firmly in both of hers again. Will takes in the room and Hanni’s face and quickly breaks contact, scrubbing their hands across their face, wiping away their expression and mashing their features about briefly.

“Sorry, sorry—I.” A deep in-drawing of breath punctuates a pause. “This year’s been a bit, a lot—kind of hard to take. With Lounds hounding me in my public life, getting sick, new dogs, losing the old ones. I am just at a loss sometimes.” At this, they lean back into their chair, with the slight relaxation of someone who keeps expecting the next blow to land but can’t help but to give in, just a little, to the fatigue that goes with being hyper vigilant. 

Hanni recognizes the signs from her previous patients with C-PTSD. Always on alert but the body and mind can’t always be at 100 percent. They begin to breakdown, sometimes producing confusional states where they want to be alert but also want to collapse entirely, often at the same time. It can literally stop a person in mid-stride, too anxious to continue what they were doing but too wired to sit down. Will was progressing nicely towards complete, unintended and unexpected collapse, at least unexpected by Will. Being frozen in more ways than one made Will more malleable in other respects. 

Hanni made another check on her mental list for Will’s progress. Complete dependence on Hanni for all their emotional needs, and even some of their physical ones, was coming ever closer. They just had to be pushed a little farther and herded a little more in the proper direction. Will’s capitulation, in the end, would be exquisite, at least when viewed through Hanni’s skewed lens, a framed portrait that would hang in Hanni’s hall of triumphs forever.

But not today. Instead, Hanni soothed the side of Will’s temple with her warm palm, speaking a rumbling soft blather of placation and calm. Will melted into the touch, even placing their hands around Hanni’s plaid-suited elbow, holding her closer to their body. She ran the fingers of her other hand gently through the curls at the nape of their neck and they closed their eyes. Physical contentment and emotional bliss transformed their features, cupid-bowing their slightly-parted soft lips. Hanni gazed at their beautiful, flushed, and trusting face and let a genuine smile of fondness trace its way across her face, unseen by the visibly relaxing Will.


	14. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picnic, a bit too early.

Darkness shouldn’t flit. But this little piece of shade gets up and starts to move erratically across the meadow. It is attached, optics-wise, to a rather large butterfly that is seeking nectar wherever it may find it. Hanni’s eyes are drawn to its dark colour, sprinkled here and there with bits of a calm yellow and a louder blue, trailing across the edges of its wings. 

A Mourning Cloak, the one butterfly that Hanni was intimately acquainted with through personal experience. She had seen a spiky black thing with small blood red spots crawling up onto the cement platform that was the sum total of the back porch on her rental house when she was a resident doctor for the second time, this time getting her North American credentials secured. The house wasn’t much but it was cheap and did well for her purposes. A small house with a deep basement was never a bad thing. 

The dangerous-looking caterpillar was moving slowly, heading for the back door of the house it seemed. Curious, she watched it for some time, black silhouette against the grey concrete. It appeared somewhat confused and in danger of being eaten by the many predators always nearby. She went in and got her screen-topped Mason jar, leftover from her last insect or arachnid pet, scooped the wiggling but determined creature into its interior, and took it inside. 

Once in the relative darkness of the basement’s pseudo living room, it attached itself to the ceiling of the glass and metal enclosure and began to spin. She watched, enraptured, as it encased itself in fine silk of its own making. Comfortably encooned, it began its transformation. One morning not long after, a dark, damp butterfly pulled itself out and shook its wings, fluttering them gently, pushing fluid into them until they were completely unfurled. Waiting until the wings were firmed up and the organism looked well enough after its change of life, she took the jar outside, unscrewed the lid, and let it go. It was a beautiful thing to have been a party to, something that she never forgot.

...

Her eyes had followed Will’s to where they were staring at the little irregular shadow its wings cast on a bare patch of ground, changing shape slowly as the butterfly flexed its wings a few times before takeoff. It was another Mourning Cloak, like the one she had befriended and protected so many years ago. She followed its course for a while, ever aware of the person beside her on the garishly-plaid blanket, only the picnic basket between them.

“Will?” she said, noticing how still they had become. Then she noticed how their eyes were glassy at first then widening, then how a sheen of sweat formed at their hairlines, eventually trickling down their forehead and neck.

“Will?!” she said, more forcefully, more like a command. Will visibly startled, eyes still stuck to the path of the butterfly’s shadow, almost gone in the distance now. “Will? Tell me what you see.”

“I see the shadow of antlers, a rack so big,” they paused, breath stolen as their gaze traveled up the edge of the forest. “The stag must be so big that it is taller than the peak of my house.” They then turned their head to where the creature that was casting the giant shadow seemed to be, behind Hanni’s left shoulder.

“What else do you see now, Will?” she almost whispered, not wanting to break the spell of their obvious hallucination, her deep voice entering raspy tone territory in the process.

“It’s . . . beautifully terrifying. Dark, shiny black and so huge.” They swallowed, their mouth open again and dry afterwards. Awe froze their features as their eyes looked up and up to the tips of the rack of antlers. They started to shake as the sweat poured down their neck and started soaking through the back and under the arms of their shirt. “And the edges of it are sharp, as if it were covered in curved black knives, like your chef’s knife, Hanni!”

They took a shaky breath before leaping to their feet to run after the figment of their mind. Judging by their stumbling speed, the creature must have leaped off in a charge across the meadow of green and brown grass. The dogs, confused but excited, took off as roan and grey blurs, running circles around their handler.

“Will! Will!” Hanni shouted after the raucous trio, Will the pack leader but also like a moth to a proverbial flame. Hanni charged after them, realizing that Will’s balance was deteriorating as their obvious fever rose higher. She eventually corralled them near the far end of the field, them both out of breath but Will still babbling, incoherently now, bits of words leaking out like scattered fridge magnet poetry between heaves of hard, panting breaths. She picked their delicate frame up across her elbows, cradling their head against her chest, and walked them slowly back to the car, whistling for the dogs to heel while they nosed their master’s now-wet and trailing curls. 

She placed Will gently into the backseat of the Bentley, leaving the dogs with them while going to retrieve the remnants of their forgotten picnic. She shook out the blanket and moved to throw it over them when she noticed they were starting to seize. Just a mild one, she thought to herself, this time, as it came to its end. She took their vitals, tucked them back in as best she could, then drove them all back to Hen Hospital at speed. Out a bit too early then but just in time for a glimpse into their very interesting mind . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What they look like (the butterfly and caterpillar, not the Obsidian Stag ;)):
> 
> https://www.butterflyidentification.com/mourning-cloak.htm


	15. Sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The precipitating incident.

The faint screams of sirens in the distance, coming closer, Will’s unending screams as they believe they are all repeatedly going over the cliff in the bus. Half the occupants have their hands over their ears, grimaces and winces distorting their faces. The driver slammed on the breaks, thinking someone was being stabbed with all the shrieking, other passengers scattering like grains of sand blown by the ferocious blast of someone in distress. Anywhere, except next to that wall of sound. You think that Will would have damaged their vocal cords by the time the ambulance pulled up, right before the police cruiser, but no. Adrenaline makes temporary fools of normal limits; the resulting damage to them lasts for a full month.

Morphine administered soon after the crew arrives reduces the volume but not the intensity of Will’s distress, as they were clutching their head as if in terrible pain when the paramedics muscled their way onto to the bus towards them. Adrenaline and fever burn it away quickly—Will’s lungs restart loud protestations by the time they reach the hospital, though the subjects of the visions seem to have changed. They laughed uproariously when Chilton came on the scene with the injectable anti-psychotics; Will kept lunging for his face, clumsily trying to remove what they thought was his fake red nose, thinking he was a clown. Chilton’s outfit that day was somewhat garish but no one would have thought clownish; thought buffoonery for his behaviour, yes, but not for his clothes.

The noise of a wounded animal, human or not, draws predators. Naturally, Freddie’s ears perked up immediately, prowling as she already was near the ambulance bays. On the hunt for a good story, ever on the lookout for tantalizing morsels of reality that she could torture into the next click-baity headline for her fledgling website. 

Will Graham had already been a source for her precious “Man Bites Dog—to Death!” ode; she was sure the twitchy little human could deliver more, hence her latching onto the non-binary screamer as soon as they came into view. Lacking subtlety, the headline formed as her flashes blinded Will and staff-people alike, “Criminal Profiler Publicly Loses Mind—Who Will Keep the Public Safe from Them?”. Followed quickly by “Profiler Infects Busload in Commuter Nightmare—Will You Be Next?!!”. Will would learn how to hate her even more over the coming months, up from their baseline detestation of her sensationalization of the death of a beloved pet dog. They rarely forgave transgressions against animals; against themself even less.


	16. Strawberry-Rhubarb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strawberry-rhubarb tartlets with homemade butter pecan ice cream; bergamot-scented tea served after dinner.

When she handed them a tiny glass of appropriately-matched liqueur for the dessert course, they noticed that her hands still smelled like the strawberries that she had put into the sauce-like filling. Strawberry-rhubarb tartlets followed, like the pies their mother used to make when they were very small. Done especially for them, pretty low-brow as far as Hanni’s cooking was concerned. But she was concerned or at least thoughtful enough, to make Will’s comfort food for them after such an upsetting experience. 

When did Will even tell her about that pie? They didn’t even know. Maybe while they were delirious and psychotic in hospital? Maybe she learned it from Rick from Beece U during their hiking trip together? How had Hanni insinuated her way into that, anyway? Who carries a wicker picnic backpack? Mysteries upon mysteries, Will thought. Must have something to do with Hanni’s European background or something. She even had a hardwood walking stick from a chi-chi maker in Germany, with a thick strip of leather threaded through the hole bored smoothly through the top of the fine piece of hardwood.

They let it go out of their head as the flavour of the hot, sweet, and tangy sauce enveloped their tastebuds and nose, setting their teeth into the flaky yet substantial pastry underneath. The coldness of the homemade butter pecan ice cream beside it provided the perfect counterpoint to the hot dessert. Devouring and very little conversation followed until both their plates had been emptied, with Will very nearly not resisting the temptation to lick their own plate clean afterwards. 

Instead, Will pays strict attention to Hanni as she clears the plates and cutlery and glasses, refusing help from her guest. They breathe in the warm aroma of bergamot as she returns with a full tea service on a tray for an after-dinner cuppa. They watch as Hanni gracefully and effortlessly puts milk and sugar into a delicate bone china cup for them, Will having asked for the extras just to watch Hanni move some more. They saw her mouth quirk up on one side, knowing just what Will was playing at but going along with the charade, perfectly happy to show off her skills. Will took a sip, sat back in their comfortable chair in the study, to which they had moved for the after-dinner beverages, and sighed out a long breath. Hanni gave them a long look with one brow perched quizzically while taking a sip of her own steaming drink. Silence was comfortable, now, between them.


	17. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in isolation.

Hanni says, “Little is known about post-viral psychosis and its treatment. There are some illuminating papers regarding symptoms and treatment from a century ago with the Spanish Flu outbreak but there are few guidelines in the modern psycho-pharmaceutical and neurologically-advanced world that we live in today.”

“So, what you’re telling me, Dr. Lecter, is that you’ll be winging it?” Will interjects before she can get another word into the air between them.

“Not quite. My reading and that of your neurologists, Drs. Brown & Gray, have helped us develop a plan of treatment that will be appropriate to your current set of symptoms.”

“So that armload of pills and prescriptions they gave me at the hospital are actually doing something for me? Hanni, I looked it up and they even include a blood thinner. What in—“

At that, Hanni made her own interruption, “Will, there is evidence that the virus leads to hypercoaguability of the blood, resulting in negative neurological effects, as it does in schizophrenia. Hence, your hallucinations.”

“Like the one you told me about in the ICU section of the isolation ward where I started ripping off my tubes and stuff, yelling ‘FIRE! FIRE!’ and pounding on the glass to get out? Nurse Yolken told me about that one when I woke up on Day 2 at Hen.” They paused, “What happened to her? I never saw her after that morning. She was nice. I should thank her.”

Hanni took a moment to reply. “Will,” she said, “I am afraid that Nurse Yolken died from the virus.” Will’s happy face fell then, eyes filling with unshed tears. They were just so much more emotional after all . . . this.

“She was infected when you first came into the ER, before we knew what you had. Many of us present that day were put into a large glass room together with an attached bathroom at first, before the testing began. She was caring for you for your first half day, as everyone else was afraid of the unknown.” 

Hanni stopped, watching as Will looked away, tears already steaming down their face. Will began, “How did you survive? What happened?” they asked, roughly wiping at the tears now wetting both of their cheeks.

She recounted “I was already in my protective equipment from dealing with another, messier trauma case immediately before you. They protected me from your bodily fluids and any aerosolized particles or droplets from your lungs. You were yelling quite loudly at times, Will. Many people were infected, though I, and, strangely, Miss Lounds, remained unaffected.” Hanni made a moue of displeasure at her mere mention. “We spent some time together in that room, all suited up to protect us from each other. Nurse Yolken, a number of orderlies, Dr. Chilton, and a number of others were not so lucky. Some of them died. Chilton lost a kidney and parts of his lungs and liver.”

“I did all that?” Will whispered, floored. Guilt twisted their features. “Why did you even come to visit me after all that?” The hoarseness of deep emotion thinned their voice.

“I was the one that sounded the alarm. Aren’t we all in this together? Am I not in my profession as a doctor to help people, no matter how I come upon them? 

“It is not your fault you got sick, Will. You didn’t know you were passing it along. You were out of touch with reality for much of that first week. Do not blame yourself for such things; it is a waste of your precious energy while you recover.

“But how could you take me into your personal care after what I did, I mean, after all that happened?” they blurted, eyes wide and still teary.

“Your neurologists consulted with me as well as Dr. Bloom and decided that having a person experienced in dealing with the effects of trauma would be of great benefit to you. My physical medical knowledge, combined with theirs, and help from the amenable Dr. Bloom, will ensure that you get the best care we can provide. We are all learning in this, Will, you on how to make inroads into getting back to normal and us in helping you, and others like you, to get to the best level of functioning that we are able to achieve. It is a collaborative process from which everyone will benefit.”

At that, Will looked somewhat mollified, if not more than a little relieved. “I guess I will leave myself in all your capable hands, then?” making it a question.

“Yes, yes you will. We’ve got you, Will.” Hanni smiled a genuine smile, though one without teeth. Those can come later, she mused.


	18. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all started in the home office but did not end there.

“Falling snow makes me feel less alone,” Will said, looking out the window into the cold air outside the red and sheer draperies at Hanni’s office window. “It fills the air, makes it -whole- somehow.”

Hanni nodded her head. She could see how they might feel that way about the cold substance that turned wet as soon as it touched you. But she had her own experiences with long, cold, -hungry- winters and internally cringed whenever it snowed. She didn’t enjoy the heat of the tropics but neither could she stand long winters anymore. That was part of the reason why she chose Couverden and thus Hen Hospital. 

You never had to shovel rain and the police record on catching serial killers here was abysmal. The one bright spark that had a clue about such things was driven away through the concerted efforts of higher ups in the police department; Hanni would be forever grateful to those unintelligent men. 

And they were all men, of course. There were some progressive hiring policies for frontline officers but little had been done to challenge the old boys’ network above the rank of sergeant. And you had to wonder about why so many gangs with ties from around the globe still had free reign in this particular local area in such a generally law-abiding country. If it provided camouflage for her to do her deeds and then took precious investigation hours away from solving the mysterious ostentatious displays that her own extra-curricular activities created, then so be it. She did not mind, not at all.

She went up behind Will and draped her arms about them, one over their right shoulder and one around their waist. She could feel them stiffen slightly and then relax soon after. She scented their neck and hair from where she was positioned, feeling their breath sigh out as they turned their own head and whispered into her ear, “I — I feel -whole- when you are so near, Hanni, I—“

But by then her lips had found theirs and her tongue had started the dance that would eventually pull them even closer, make their two bodies into one being. She moved her arm and her hand clutched the back of their head, pushing Will’s mouth hard against her own. Will melted into her embrace, trying to twist to face her fully but she kept the smaller person in the awkward position that they were already in, neck bared for her teeth. She tilted their head back and made for their jugular, licking long strokes up it and the corded muscles near it, testing the meat of it between her hungry teeth. Her reward was an extended groan from Will, followed by a hard swallow from them due to the uncomfortable stretch in which their neck was extended.

Quickly, before Will regained the power of speech, she changed her grips and threw them over her shoulder, fireman’s carry style. Will huffed out a startled breath and a little “Hanni! Hanni?” before she took them upstairs to the master bedroom. Will had not been here since the day she ‘cleaned them up’ after they had had that relapse they couldn’t remember. What Will could remember was masturbating after in the bathwater before dragging themself to the guest room for a nap before dinner. They coloured even more than being thrown over her back would have accomplished, blush covering their white, white skin down past their collarbones.

Hanni stopped dead before the bed and threw them down onto their back, knocking the wind out of them. Will had no time to think, let alone breathe or object. Hanni had her prize, finally, in her bed and willing, and was not patient with such things as clothing. Will’s blue and green plaid shirt was gone in under a minute, Hanni’s lips overstimulating their nipples as Will finally got their breath back. “Oh! That’s—” was all they could get out before she moved her lips and teeth lower to the waistband of their khakis, pulling them and their boxers efficiently down past their hips. They didn’t even think that was possible with their belt still fastened but they had little time to think. She had stripped them bare in less than five minutes and had pressed her lips, teeth, and hands over all their limbs by that point as well.

Will was naked and shivering, on their back in the middle of the bed in short order, not exactly cold but definitely excited as hell. Hanni was taking charge and Will was, well, Will was just quivering with anticipation. Hanni looked at the person below her on the bed and found her handy work good, very good. 

Will was so hard that their member was already leaking pre-come onto their abdomen, onto the trail of natural embroidery that led lower, to softer regions. She licked her lips while making very, very solid eye contact before she lowered herself closer to their body, in between their legs. Will watched her eyes as she went down, her lips landing on the dip of their right hip. 

It was then that Will’s eyes went involuntarily closed and their penis leapt to even harder attention, brushing softly against her cheek. She paid it some attention with her lips and tongue, coming at it from the side, her hair falling over one eye as she stared at Will’s overly mobile face. They gasped at the warm wetness drawing along one side of their engorged member, finally wrapping itself around the entire tip and giving a hard suck. Will’s eyes flew open and they took as much air into their lungs as they could, trying desperately not to come right away, their straining abdominal muscles going concave with the effort.

Hanni quickly put a hand over their penis to hold onto it while she licked lower, over the loose skin below, taking each ball gently into her mouth before going lower. Seeking their clenched ring of muscle, she found it and licked once down over it and then slowly back up, keeping her grip on their penis while they thrashed wildly above her. 

At this point, Hanni leaned over Will and licked a long, sinuous line, wending her way up to the other side of their neck. “One moment,” she breathed, close to their ear. Will felt their eyes close tighly shut before they drew in a shaky breath. Hanni took the opportunity to quietly and quickly but neatly dispose of her own clothes on the chair beside the bed.

“Too much—Hanni—too” they squeezed out of a contracting throat and heaving lungs. “Will,” Hanni started, crawling back onto the bed as Will felt their weight on them again, “Will, will you be my Good Girl, will you be still and take this for me?” she finished, her tone low and commanding.

Will felt themself still, hearing the words making their mind go to mush. Girl? Am I Hanni’s girl? Oh. It was as if something in their brain finally clicked and they rushed to respond. “Yes, Hanni. Yes,” Will breathed out the words. “Yes!”

Hanni, having all the consent she was likely to get from a steadily weakening Will, proceeded to take them apart, piece by glorious piece. Will’s curls were already starting to dampen with the effort of holding themself back, sticking fetchingly to their forehead here and there, and sliding across the pillow as they lay their head back down, letting their innocent blue eyes close back down.

Hanni went down and licked one more time on Will’s sensitive part and then trailed one hand up to their mouth, instructing “Open” when her fingers reached their lips. 

Will did as they were told, lips and teeth spreading for the intrusion they knew was coming. Her long, slender fingers worked their way past their lips and teeth, laying themselves out on their wet, wet tongue until Will was almost choking at the back of their throat. The next command, “Suck”, came low and sensuous, yet still seeming out of place on the normally staid woman’s lips. Will shivered like a cool breeze or maybe even a ghost had passed over their skin. They sucked for all they were worth as Hanni ran her fingers over and around their tongue, coating herself in their juices. Will did their best to be Hanni’s Good Girl, lost in obeisance.

When she felt her fingers and the pads of her hand just below them were well and truly drenched, she removed them from their soft, soft lips. Will moaned as she drew them slowly from their hot mouth and gasped a little as she found them a new home down below. She ran their now slick tips around and over their pucker, drawing it open, little by little. 

Squirming from the attention, Will could not help but move some as Hanni’s hands were very skilled. They stilled again as she removed her other hand from their cock and said “Will, what did I tell you?” as she continued to circle her fingers in their nether region.

They raised their head and looked her straight in the eye, then, catching themself, lowered their lashes and said, “To be good, to be, to be your Good Girl?” they whispered. 

“And?” she interrupted, voice low and purring and steely.

“To stay still, for you?”

“Yes. Good Girl. Can you do that for me, Will?”

“Yes, Hanni.” they breathed out, lowering their head back to the pillow again, feeling their curls slipping over the tightly woven dark cotton.

“Good.”

After that they just continued to tremble as Hanni worked one, then two, then three slender fingers into them, slowly stretching them and opening them up, while studiously avoiding touching them anywhere near the oval that was so so sensitive. Occasionally, she sensuously returned her fingers to their mouth, where they could taste themself on her. 

When Will was so overstimulated that they could hardly speak, unable to do much more than vibrate in place, Hanni hiked their legs up with both her hands, folding Will in half with their knees bent up close to their ears. Pushing the breath out of Will, she positioned her legs on either side of their legs and pulled their twitching member between her own thighs, into her moist warmth.

After being neglected for so long while she worked them open, their penis felt like it was now surrounded by fire and they had to fight, hard, not to come as she slowly slid down onto them. It was not all the way down because of the position but it was enough that she could rise and fall on their member enough to set up a rhythm. And while she did that, one of her hands went back to where she had prepared their hole and reentered it with the same rhythm she was keeping above them. 

“Open your eyes, Will,” she said, straining to maintain her position above them while penetrating them below. Will locked eyes with her as the sensations of penetrating and being penetrated at the same time became so overwhelming they forgot to breathe.

She went through a few more strokes before finding their prostate with her fingers, running over it with each motion. Will gasped, eyes widening and breath lost, so much, so much sensation as Hanni’s breasts undulated above them and her warmth enveloped them and her fingers penetrated them.

“I need you to breathe with me, Will. Can you do that for me?”

Will nodded after her words sunk in to their hazy and thumping brain. “Yeah. Yes.”

“Good Girl!” she said, increasing her pace now, putting more of her weight onto them and pushing her fingers in farther with each motion, increasing the pace of their breathing at the same time. Will was lost even before she increased her contact with their prostate.

“I’m going to come! Hanni! Ungh... Hanni!”

“Then come, my Good Girl!” she forced out, breathless herself but holding herself back until she felt the warmer spurt inside of her innermost self as she let go, squirting her own fluid, hard, down against their member and spreading quickly over both their thighs and abdomen. She held herself over them for a moment while the shudders ran through both of them and back and forth between each other, before she dismounted and removed her hand from their softened, puffy hole.

She draped herself over their front, one of their thighs between her two, and let her body finally relax. They moaned quietly against her neck, the power of speech so beyond them that all they could do was tremble and clutch, weakly, at her short-cropped hair with one nearby hand. She had had her Will, marked them with tooth and claw and her bodily fluids. There would be no going back now. Will was finally, irreparably, inconsolably -hers-.


	19. Doneness

Her regard for Will stands like a saffron temple in the middle of Hanni’s memory palace. She worships them, tends the architecture. Lights the incense, sweeps away the cobwebs. Will appreciates her time and attention, at least for the moment. At least in this incarnation, one of Hanni’s own making.

“Talking about art is like dancing about architecture.” Hanni is reminded of the famous quote, from one rather famous aesthete. Hanni dances about Will’s architecture, no words are needed here. She will spend this day without Will physically but not without their presence in her life, her mind, her palace. 

She appears melancholic yet relaxed, hooded eyes staring off into an indeterminate distance. Her current patient, some fatuous rich woman with more cheques than sense, blathers on about how her husband ignores her. Yet she does not notice Hanni’s inattention at all. Hanni thinks that perhaps the woman lacks self-knowledge to the point that she bores everyone with her insipid prattling, her lips moving but signifying nothing. Nothing important, anyway. She glances at the clock on the front of her desk, gently reminding her patient that their time together is almost up. The woman startles, apologizing: “Oh, I am sorry! I just go on and on and lose track of time, don’t I?” 

-Yes, you most certainly do, you insufferable woman-, thinks Hanni, though her verbal response is much more placid, taking the woman’s bait. “Until next week, then?”

“Yes,” and then she drones on, handing Hanni a hefty cheque for her professional psychiatric services. If only she could make a lovely pâté of this overstuffed woman, she thinks, immediately dismissing the notion for the umpteenth time because of their social proximity. Serial killers, at least the more successful ones, choose their victims wisely, seemingly unconnected to their killers. Hanni remains up on the latest literature, tracks the buzz on the Dark Web, reads police reports, and has the chief of police over for tea occasionally, when he is soliciting yet another donation for law enforcement-related charities. Hanni is all calming smiles and politesse at those moments, knowing he has no way of connecting their dots. 

Hanni already led him to arrest Will after they got too close to discovering her extracurricular activities, eventually threatening her in her own home. Hanni fended them off easily, right in front of the officers she had previously summoned by the handy 911 emergency service. Caught in the middle of committing a violent act in front of the kind officers, Will was taken to jail straight away, even as a former local police officer themself. Will had even used the same make and model of weapon that they used while on the force, shame-facedly noticed by the police attending the scene. 

Will had been forced to quit after being labeled mentally unfit, coming out as gender non-binary soon after. Gender minority phobia and mental illness stigma did their insidious work quickly. Any remaining friends they had on the force evaporated after those disclosures. Good enough to track killers as a consulting academic but no longer to arrest them as a junior police officer, apparently.

They were denied bail and roasted in the press, especially by Miss Lounds and her small but increasing following on her somewhat popular website, now gaining national coverage by other news media. She even snapped a few sharp photos of Hanni’s superficial injuries and carefully-crafted looks of shock right after the attack, before being shooed away by those attentive aforementioned officers. 

She must have been stalking Will, to be at Hanni’s combined house and office in a secluded part of the westside of the city so quickly. The surrounding trees and salmon-bearing stream in the ravine usually kept privacy at high levels but not from someone as tenacious as the red-haired fashion maven. Hanni wondered how she ever got the mud off those high heels or how she mounted trees in that skirt. Her own vinyl murder suit was just so easy to clean, especially with all the rain and mud that the area was known for since time immemorial. Even the local First Nations had relied on the bounty that the rains provided. Adapt or die, isn’t that how that quaint saying in English went?

But no matter, Will was currently unavailable, refusing to see Hanni, though Hanni was soon going to get Alana to arrange a visit of her own. Alana was shocked at Will’s behaviour and wanted answers. Betrayals of many kinds were in the air, Hanni perfectly happy to let them hang there to do their work for her.

To the matter of the visit tonight: the Vergers expected she and Alana promptly at eight and Hanni was not one to be late. After cleaning her face and touching up the minimal make-up there, Hanni put on something suitably flamboyant and closed and locked her front door behind her. She would review her security footage from the newer, better hidden cameras later to see if Lounds was still lurking about after the dreadfully but necessarily public incident.

As Hanni pulled her Bentley out of her driveway, she pondered the Verger problem. Alana had been treating the sister for quite some time now, almost a year. The problem was obvious: Margot had tried to kill Mason but Mason was abusive and hard to kill. Alana was not yet encouraging her to be better prepared next time but Hanni could see her heading in that direction. She was gratified to see that the woman was taking the actions that she would have herself in the same circumstances.

Alana openly discussed her patients with Dr. Lecter, enjoying her professional opinions. Alana still thought that she and Hanni were an item and she was loathe to give up that avenue of control over the normally astute Dr. Bloom. She could see that Alana was harbouring a latent attraction to Ms. Verger but could not even admit it to herself. Yet. All rewarding things take time, as Bedelia would say.


	20. Centre

“A place of barbed wire and dry grasses,  
wooden posts and splinters,  
and cat’s claws,  
eyelashes.  
Cuts and gashes  
and blood drawn quick and sharp.  
Pointy objects and dull,  
serrated and smooth,  
scrapes and skin  
painted many colours from the insides  
out.  
Red skins from the rays,  
beating down from above.  
Wet blisters underneath,  
meeting with love.”

Will’s poetry to Hanni from prison had developed into something rather disturbing, Hanni noted, scenting the paper they had scribbled it on, hand-delivered by another, ruining Will’s signature fear note. 

Hanni had always been hyperaware of their scent. From those first few moments when they were all together in the isolation room, Hanni could smell Will’s underlying scent, based in umami with overtones of something slightly bitter and green. It was unique in her experience of natural human odours. At first, of course, it was overlain by a certain deliciously fevered sweetness but that faded as the virus ran its course. She sniffed them while everyone else got some disturbed sleep that first night, nosing the base tones out from under antiseptics, medical adhesive tape, and fear. 

And dog, of course. Darling first, and then Ghost as well. Even as Will lay in their cell tonight, Hanni and Alana would be dropping by their cabin to check on the dogs and take them for a late run, with Alana’s own dog, Applesauce. Peter could only do so much and had his own smaller, weaker dogs to protect. Hanni revelled in the strength and speed of Will’s dogs, and in Ghost’s obedience especially. 

Darling would give her the strangest looks when she showed up after having pressed one of Will’s worn shirts against the front of her outfit for the day. She would sniff and look past Hanni, trying to figure out where Will was, sometimes even going back to scent Hanni’s car, jumping up to gently prop her paws up on the car door to look inside for her owner, wet nose leaving a forlorn single print on the shiny glass. She had known that a dog’s nose was sensitive but she had underestimated how loud Darling’s whine would be when no Will magically appeared. 

Hanni wondered if she would smell Will on Alana after one of her visits to them in the forensic unit of Hen’s psych ward. There were plans to send Will up valley to the separate rural forensic institution but Hanni was resisting the transfer, for reasons not entirely clear to her. She made noises about a number of plausible reasons but she wondered if it was the two hour drive one way from her house that was the real problem. Will had only consented to see her once since their arrest at her house and it had not gone . . . well. Not at all. 

They had spoken quietly to Hanni until they had suddenly rushed the aerated plexiglass between them, sliding a narrow hand and slim wrist scrapingly hard through one of the apertures, almost clutching their lengthening fingernails around her throat. Hanni had managed to jump back in time, as she always had her eye on a potential attacker’s centre of gravity and when that moved, so, too, came the rest of their body. 

Still, it had shaken her, a slight sweat forming on her upper lip and under the hairline on her forehead. The guards had reacted quickly, jumping on and restraining Will in their cell, physically at first with a straight-jacket-like series of arm locks, followed by chemical means. She saw as the light went out of their eyes as the drugs took hold, gaze going glassy while lips slackened. It was not one of Will’s most fetching looks but it had her wondering about the possibilities inherent in having Will in that state while under her sole control. She thought on that, a lot, once she got home but first asking and making note of the medications used before leaving the ward. Hanni always strove to be prepared for any eventuality.


	21. Harlequin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the fair.

The deep red against the dark blue against the golden yellow touching the cool but brightly faded green fluttered in the breeze, a harlequin pattern of four colours, meeting in diamond points on the pennant. The fundraiser for Hen Hospital was going well and warmth like a soft flannel blanket was washing up the front of Hanni’s body as she took in the wide, relaxed grin on Will’s face. She thought they could use a day away from the confines of the hospital, even if they were still too weak to walk without a wheelchair. 

Will’s weight had also dropped during their recovery, as muscles wasted during their confinement and as their appetite plummeted as a reaction to their many medications. Hanni did what she could, bringing them her home cooked meals and eating along with them to encourage better nutrition but sometimes it seemed a losing battle, at least until they had entered the fairgrounds. The luxury versions of carnival foods seemed to please their palate very much or perhaps it was the atmosphere that soothed their ever-present anxiety enough to allow them to indulge. 

The beaten earth of the fairgrounds had made pushing her lightened charge fairly easy, though her strength would have been up to the task even if they had been on firm but lumpy green grass. She had to admit that even she, herself, had been enjoying the spectacle of the carnival. 

It was a rather more upscale type of event than Will was used to from their childhood, where the occasional travelling circus was seedy, even if they gave out free tickets at the school. Their Dad had mustered up the cash a few times to accompany them. They were some of their happiest memories with their Dad, bright spots in an early life of deprivation and transience.

But this was nothing like they’d ever seen before. Opulence abounded, with servers holding silver trays full of champagne flutes filled with blushing liquids, off limits to Will still because of their many meds. Acrobatic and theatrical performers in colourful and elaborate costumes performed amazing feats of skill and precision, accompanied by live musicians on real, possibly period instruments. No sad, abused circus animals here, just smiling faces or looks of hard concentration while performing earthbound miracles with their own bodies.

They could tell Hanni was in her element, sometimes taking a sip of champagne, holding court with the obviously rich donors, male and female and indeterminate-gendered ones alike. Shaking hands and kissing babies, she seemed at ease with the social grace of a butterfly that knows just how beautiful their wings seem to be. 

Will was just along for the ride, perfectly happy to be ignored for the most part as the pitiable invalid specimen in the wheelchair, pleased, for once, at not being expected to speak or even engage in small talk or eye contact. Silence is always better than condescension and Will had had far enough of that in their short life. 

Though their brief interaction with the Verger siblings was nothing if not jarring and frightening for Will. Margot practically vibrated with victimhood and her brother was an over-the-top buffoon of a bully in a plaid but well-tailored person suit. Will actually giggled a little to themself after their encounter, mostly in relief at the end of the interaction.

“Are you all right, Will?” Hanni had asked in her hushed and rich voice at this unexpected but intriguing outcome to their encounter. From Alana’s reports, laughing was not something most people did after getting up close and personal with the young Mr. Verger.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just, he gives me the creeps!” they burst out, rubbing both hands over their still opened mouth and up under the lenses of their glasses. “That’s one head I don’t want to be near, not near. Not at all. And the sister—“. 

Will’s voice dropped off after that and their face slackened, some seen terror beginning to twist at its edges as Hanni stepped in to change the subject, filing away Will’s strong reactions to the siblings for exploration another time.

~+~

As the afternoon faded beautifully into evening, the sun set across the delta, spreading greens and pinks and salmons into inky blues with the diamond glitter of stars, their social interactions and Will’s eyelids started to drop right down.

“Perhaps we had better get you home, then, Will?”

Blinking slowly, Will replied, “Alright. Thank you, Hanni, for today I mean.”

“You are very welcome, Will. It was my pleasure. A small vacation from your cares felt appropriate.”


	22. Creatures

Alien creatures that few, if any, humans look at closely: snails and fireflies. Most think of softly blinking lights in the dark and whorling shells in the daylight, both in the garden, both items of happenstance. Their antennae lost in their tininess, a forgotten detail. Few get close enough to see the light glint off moist or hard outer layers but Will sees, notices, delights, at least until their dogs come snuffling around to investigate the new thing their owner has found.

A local public garden had imported a small number of fireflies for a specific event and some had escaped, forming a small resident population in the local area near the park. Will used to take the dogs out there in the evenings sometimes, in the right season, just to catch a glimpse of the invasive species. It reminded them of their childhood farther south and east from here. 

They were magical and they were free, which is how Will had even seen them in the first place. They stayed close to the pond near one corner of the garden, across from the stepped concrete lines of the overlooking apartment building for the super rich. There were quite a number of those in this area, some homegrown and some imported, and some who just liked having a local pied-à-terre of maybe a cool couple of million or so. One with say, 24-hour security to protect said residents from the inconvenience of kidnapping, etc.. 

Will certainly had no fear of such things. Nothing to ransom for except two rescued dogs and a ramshackle but comfortable cabin in a mountainside meadow in the woods. Will was only a target for Freddie Lounds, and psychiatric leches like the invalid formerly known as Dr. Frederick Chilton, who now lived as a recluse but who managed to publish papers on patients who he somehow still managed to see at his sprawling house at the edge of the suburbs. 

Chilton would have dearly loved to get inside the head of the increasingly high profile criminal profiler. Will was having none of it before their respective illnesses had irreparably changed both their lives and was having even less of it, now that they were on the mend. Yes, Chilton would probably dearly love to even try vivisection on Will’s mind, given half the chance, the probing not stopping at the smell of burnt toast, most likely. -Good thing he hadn’t been previously trained as a brain surgeon-, Will thought.


	23. Absence

Her button-down dress shirt was a purple so deep that the edges danced with blue in the light, especially up against the white of the corridor wall. Will was entranced by it, trying to edge closer to see the optically-induced shimmer as she moved her hands while speaking with her colleagues. 

Hanni, used to Will’s odd behaviour from the fevers, gently kept nudging them back to an acceptable social distance, eventually forming a cage around their chest with one long arm. 

The neurologists noticed at that point, distracted from their intense discussion of Will’s treatment by their odd and repetitive behaviour. “Does he do this kind of thing often, Dr. Lecter?” Dr. Gray asked, misgendering the ill person yet again. 

With Will currently unable to defend themself, Hanni stepped in for them. “I must insist that you use their correct pronoun before we proceed, Dr. Gray. They are gender non-binary and use the preferred pronoun “they”.”

Dr. Gray looked somewhat affronted, used to being the one to correct her own students, not the one in need of being corrected. Her brows furrowed for a moment, unsure how to respond to such a direct and unequivocal rebuke. 

“My, ah, apologies, Dr. Lecter, M—“ She halted mid-word, not knowing which honorific prefix to use to address the person right in front of her. 

“Mx Graham, if you please,” croaked Will, coming out of whatever state of distraction or vacant seizure they had been experiencing, hence their persistent performance of the same action over and over. They blinked and blinked behind the lenses of their glasses but made no eye contact in their little group.

“Will has had some episodes like this, absence seizures. They are very short and they often keep repeating the task that they were performing when they start. It can be difficult to tell what is happening if they are already at rest unless questioned and do not provide an appropriately-timed response. They generally maintain full bladder and bowel control.”

Not exactly what Will wanted to be discussing in the corridor of a public hospital but they are so tired from the seizure right now that all they can think to do is get back to their hospital bed. It had just been so nice to get up and go for a walk after getting out of isolation that they hadn’t even cared that their back was exposed in the hospital gown, until the embarrassment and vulnerability grabbed them right now. They edge behind Hanni slightly, not wanting to deal with clueless professionals that should really know better by this decade.

Hanni picked up on this and turned Will back towards their hospital room. 

“If you will excuse us, I must see to the needs of our patient right now.” 

With that final dismissal, Dr. Lecter took Mx Graham’s arm and slowly led them back to their bed for a much-needed rest.


	24. Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the office.

“I do not collect nice things,” Hanni said, continuing: “I collect hard and beautiful things that give me the strength to continue to live my life.” Will had been fondling the skulls and sculptures on their pre-sitting circuit of her office and Hanni had seen fit to comment this time.

Will paused then replied, “Am I one of those things, Dr. Lecter?”

“Will, you are not a thing to me. You are—the most fascinating person I have ever met. Beautiful, yes, and hard sometimes, but a person all the same.”

“Fascinating in an ‘I want to write a forensic psychiatric paper about you’ kind of way?” They sighed, “I have been down that road before and don’t care to do it again.” They descended into one of the chairs facing the good doctor’s desk.

“No, Will.” She pushed her gaze past their shoulder and left it staring languidly into the distance of her opposing office wall. She straightened a pen to make it line up with the edge of her closed journal, Will’s treatment journal, before continuing.

“You are like the most delicious vintage in the world but I never know exactly how you will taste, what scent you will have, when I open each individual bottle. Each time reveals a nuance I had not even thought possible up to that point.”

“So, are you saying you’d like to drink me down, savouring every drop of me, Dr. Lecter?” their brows drawing up and together in a questioning look.

“Will, please. We have known each other for so long now that you must call me Hanni.” She set her lips in a tiny moue of displeasure to which Will’s eyes were immediately drawn. 

They shifted uncomfortably, their khaki pants suddenly too tight. Their legs parted on their chair in an effort to assuage the feeling in polite company. Hanni only let people see her expressions when she cared to do so; she was offering Will a peek into her private thoughts, coloured by just a touch of underlying emotions.

Hanni noted the posture change with interest, turning her whole body to face Will directly, only the desk between them shielding Will from her smouldering, dark look. Patient, friend, potential lover, she would have Will in every way that would be non-permanent, at least for now. Their physical taste would have to wait, for a little while.

Will met her stare briefly, before turning away from that flaming sun. This was getting out of hand and they took off their glasses with one hand, scrubbing across their face and eyes with the other. Sweat prickled in their armpits and trickled, thinly, down the middle of their back. Another shift in the chair betrayed a hardening member that just was not going to leave them alone. They crossed their legs up high, trying to hide their increasingly evident arousal. Their eyes flicked, panicked, to where their coat was on the coat rack by the door. Hanni was waiting for them to say something but Will’s mind went blank, searching only for escape from another awkward situation of their own making.

They bolted for the elegant dark wood and brass rack as Hanni got up and around the desk just as quickly, both arriving at the door at the same time. Though Will felt like a lumbering ox, while she had moved with the grace of a dancer, or a, a predator, Will thought to themself, noting a responding slight increase in pressure in their groin quickly echoing that mere thought.

“I have to—I have to go now, Hanni. The dogs—“ Will finished, lamely.

“Of course, you are always concerned with their welfare. Would that all animals had a caretaker as dedicated as you,” she said, plucking their brownish coat off the rack and holding it out for them. Will sighed and gratefully turned their throbbing groin away from her, thrusting bladed hands jerkily into each offered sleeve. More layers to hide the shame of being aroused in front of their therapist.

They only half-turned back, arm out to shield what was not covered by the longer and bulkier jacket. “Same time next week, Dr.—I mean Hanni?”

“Yes, indeed. Have a safe trip home, Will. Your taxicab should be at the curb by now.”

“Um, thanks for calling it for me ahead of time.”

“Not a problem, Will. Taking care of my patients is my pleasure,” she smiled, just a little as she noticed the increasing effect she was having on Will, the longer she spent in their presence. Will’s vision only managed to flicker up to those lips again, see that small upturn, and then they ran out of the patient exit door, already panting with fear of exposure and flushing with a liberal helping of embarrassment.


	25. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev.

They’re a damaged human being who lives at the edge of a cliff, constantly looking back where they came from, worried that they will plummet down again. Substance abuse digs into your soul but doesn’t have to provide any outward signs, though it often does, in the lines on a face or a blatantly visible injury, like a burn scar. Until you go over that cliff, no one else has to know, no one has to pity you. But after, you find out who your real friends are.

Will found out that they had one friend, one they met by chance outside Hen’s ER department while they were on a routine mental health call, escorting an unruly lady for emergency psychiatric treatment. They didn’t like those calls and joined their partner outside for a smoke break, even though Will never partook of that particular vice.

Bev had been looking for some air of her own, having lost a young patient in one if her ORs, nothing that anyone could do about it. Price was a mess and Zeller was back trying to comfort him and doing a shit job of it; she didn’t even bother to try. She settled upwind of Will and their puffing partner, hooded eyes staring into the trees and bushes of the apartment block across the street. Her feet were planted, knees slightly bent, slight pelvic tilt, arms crossed over her chest. She just stood like that, not even seeming to blink when she stared, lips a straight line stretching over the lower half of her face whenever Will chanced another glance.

“I’d hate to be that tree,” Will offered, once their partner had snubbed out their stinking cigarette butt in the receptacle provided and gone back in to check on their charge. 

Bev slid her eyes over in Will’s general direction, continuing to remain silent as Will stared straight ahead at the offending shrubbery. They wiped their drying open mouth then, trying to remove their own foot, unconsciously covering up their name tag to prevent individual identification and a harassment suit. But she just seemed . . . they didn’t know, just -in need- somehow.

As they turned to go, she reached out and grabbed their upper arm, closing the distance faster than they thought possible, considering her wispy frame and hair all done up in a surgical cap.

“Tree’s just fine. I wouldn’t want you to think I was one of those tree-haters,” she said, trying to make eye contact with them and almost succeeding. Which was a miracle, considering to whom she was speaking.

“Are you sure about that?” Will blurted out quickly, the first thing that came into their head. “I’ve seen men reduced to ash by less intensity.” They could feel a giggle rising unbidden into their chest at their own ridiculousness.

And then she laughed and gave a playful swipe with her other hand at their same shoulder and that was it. They went out for coffee at the end of their respective shifts that day. And many days after that. They never asked what she was thinking about and she never said. But they somehow saw each other as people from the start and it never let up after that.


	26. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relapse.

The darkness moves beneath her momentarily closed eyelids, no real shapes but restless motion nonetheless. Dealing with Will has been trying this week. Their psychosis is back, full force, their fever is high and unquenchable no matter what they try at the hospital. Simple ice packs and cooling blankets with fluids inside are not enough. They are moving them to an old unused wing of the mental hospital next door today, the one that used to be for ‘temperature treatments’. Ice baths and freezing cold showers are methods of last resort. 

Will’s isolation must remain complete so all precautions must be taken in keeping the virus away from other patients and the staff or the general public. Freddie Lounds, thankfully, doesn’t get wind of Will’s sudden transfer this time.

Will no longer recognizes Hanni, eye contact or no. They move restlessly in their bed, sightless eyes still open, hands pawing weakly at things that are just not there. Small twists of their body betray a mind on fire and a body following suit. Noises, not words, emanate from their lips. 

She will have to call Peter to take care of Will’s dogs again this week. She can hear the twitches the man makes when she speaks with him over the phone. The scrawny man fears her, as well he should. Some see past person-suits better than others, even without eye contact.

...  
At first, Will doesn’t even thrash when they put them into the ice bath tank and lock down the lid. They are so out of it with fever and hallucinations that nothing is getting through. They start the timer. About half-way in the countdown, a circuit in the thin person’s brain actually starts firing again and the whole-body shivering starts. Their mind is still not online.

More time crawls by. The attendants and other doctor shift uncomfortably, watching the patient’s movements grow more violent, the shivering becoming larger jerks. Their hands unconsciously move to adjust their PPEs, the tug on a loop of a mask here, the smoothing back of a gown with gloved hands there. 

Dr. Lecter remains still in the corner with best view of Will’s face, lighting up when Will’s gaze begins to focus and they shake out the word, “Hurts”. Their eyes fall closed for a moment before “S-s-so c-c-cold” whispers past their trembling lips. It is the most coherent thing that the person has said in the last 36 hours.

“Time?” Hannibal barks, startling everyone who had been straining to hear Will’s words. Everyone’s eyes are suddenly drawn to the face of the timer. Very little time is left.

“Take them out! Now!” she commands. The lid is raised and the shaking skinny body is lifted, jerking from shivers, onto a nearby gurney. Towels are retrieved quickly from their stacks and their naked wet body is wiped dry. No clothes are provided; shame is not allowed here. Will’s eyes snap open again, awareness of their nudity slowly dawning.

One orderly continues stroking a dry towel through the curls on Will’s head while Hanni tries and succeeds in making eye contact.

“How are you feeling, Will?” She is not pushing for facial recognition just yet, only checking how her patient is feeling. A nurse steps up to take Will’s vitals, making sure he doesn’t interfere with the connection that is trying to be made. Will shivers and squirms, the sudden appearance of all these people so close making them hella nervous.

“I—“ Will squeezes out between shakes. Their brows draw together in confusion. “Where am I?”

“You are in hospital again,” Hanni says lowly through her mask, using a soothing, almost rumbling tone to her voice. “You’ve had a relapse and you are contagious again. Your fever was too high but we may have broken it for now.”

Will’s head falls back flatly onto the gurney and flops to the side. They are exhausted. “Oh,” they breathe, “Okay then,”. Their lids close and their body loosens, any fight completely gone now. They are covered with a thin sheet, body temperature still above normal but less dangerously so, and moved back to the regular isolation ward.

Before Hanni leaves their hospital room, Will catches her wrist with a weak one-handed grip and whispers a hoarse “Thank you, Hanni,” before retreating back into themself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to get fevers of 104 on a regular basis as an adult. I am surprised that I have any functional brain tissue left, now that I think about it.🤭👀


	27. Ache

The words on the screen of the phone start to look three dimensional, some looking like they are farther into the screen, some look like they project slightly from it. The pain in their head gets worse but they keep reading the story, just trying to finish before this, whatever this is, just takes hold and removes another week from their life, their memories. They hold out until the lines of text undulate on the screen, each line with its own rhythm. Lyrical, isn’t that what Hanni said? The pain in their head gets worse.

Hanni, working behind her desk, notices that Will’s focus had faltered, leading to quiet whimpering when the phone dropped from their hands and to the chaise’s cushioned seat beneath them. When they started clutching their head and closed their eyes up tightly, lids wrinkled and mouth in a grimace, Hanni swiftly went to their side.

“Will? Can you hear me, Will,” she said gently, coaxing an alternate sound out of the tortured face before her.

“My head it hurts my neck I just then the words moved and—“

“Will, it’s okay. Just lie down for me now,” she said, voice taking on that low, rumbly, and soothing tone that Will liked so much.

“But the words, they moved! They’re not supposed to do that! I lost the thread of the story.”

“I know. But now, just rest for now. Be somewhere else quiet, somewhere calm. Can you do that for me?”

“Ah, it hurts.”

“I know it is hard just now. But you know your quiet place. Where is it again?” she said, trying to engage Will’s logical brain through the haze of pain and hallucination.

“My stream?”

“Yes, your stream.”

“Okay.”

“Just wade into the quiet of the stream.”

At that, Will slid down the back of the chaise, ending up in a kind of fetal position on their side, curved back oriented towards the tall windows. Hanni reached out and stroked their fragrant curls starting from the nape of their neck and running backwards up the back of their head.

“S’nice,” whispered Will, Hanni not knowing if it were the strokes or the visualization distraction technique. It mattered not. That Will began to visibly relax mattered. 

They continued like this for some time, Will’s curls in Hanni’s hand and their breaths evening out together. Eventually, she got up, retrieved a throw from the wooden chest, and placed it around Will’s shoulders, pulling it down to cover the rest of their body. They grabbed and pulled it up around their neck without opening their eyes, snuggling their face into the loose throw pillow under their head.

Hanni returned to her desk and resumed her work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking hate migraines. Wish I had a Hanni.


	28. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before it all.

Will takes some coke at a drug bust to cope with a minor injury from their last takedown. Gets it up their nose accidentally, the first time, as a package comes apart while they are cleaning up and counting the evidence. No one blames them the first time but they get a taste for the feeling as their physical rehab for the injury drags on and still effects their job performance after six months. And being young and under cover on the drug squad in the downtown gay club drug scene, it is just so easy to find more, to chase after that feeling of well-being and confidence, when so little of their life makes sense or is easy. It feels like it is easy to fit in on coke. Boundless energy, less pain. 

But then they need to sleep and the pills afterwards just ease them into that smooth headspace and suddenly it is the next day and time to do it all over again. Until things start to break down.

Will’s coke and opiate addictions take their toll, eating smaller then larger chunks out of their personal, then professional lives. To get themself up and then back down - to get through work and gender dysphoria and to fit into the gay male scene and then to relax and sleep/sleep through nightmares. 

By the time they have their first psychotic episode from the neurological effects of the virus, all their ID is in their preferred name and gender but their medical records are all male. Mx Graham, Mr Graham, Ms Graham, they’d been called everything at the hospital, even a few slurs thrown in for good measure. Whatever cross point on their intersectionality strangles the person in front of them today determines what flavour of insult it will be.


	29. Weight

“I miss my dogs. I’m not going to miss you.” says Will. “I’m not going to find you. I’m not going to look for you. I don’t wanna know where you are or what you do.” Shaking their head after taking a deep breath, they end with: “I don’t want to think about you any more.”

“You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight,” says Hanni, afterwards licking her lips and looking away from Will.

Another swallow and then: “You delight; I tolerate. I don’t have your appetite,” they almost whisper, gazing directly at her. “Goodbye, Hanni.”

As rare as it is, Hanni has trouble making eye contact now, gaze drifting off and to the right. The silence weighs on her like it never has before. She gets to her feet, secures her pen to her notebook and leaves by the front door of Will’s cabin. No word is uttered on either side while she does this.

Later on that night, with the wind almost whipping the thickening snow horizontally across the yard, Will sees heavy police vehicles pull up onto their property, almost filling their whole drive, blue and red lights beaming alternately through the falling whiteness.

“She’s already gone,” they say to the lead investigator after she knocks on the front screen door. She waits, collar shrugged up over her neck, facing away from the snow, skin protected by that and the brim of her hat.

Then a voice comes from beside Will’s cabin: “Janine, I’m here,” they hear Hanni say.

“Finally caught the Twin Sisters Killer, Janine.”

“I didn’t catch you, you surrendered.”

“I want you to know exactly where I am. And where you can always find me,” says Hanni from her kneeling position in the snow. The falling snow starts to get thicker.

“Okay, let’s wrap this up before it is impossible to get off the mountain in this snow. Hurry up, people! Let’s go!” Janine booms out, her voice already having trouble getting through the muffling effects of the heavily falling snow.

Will retreats back into the house while Hanni is cuffed and put into the detective’s vehicle. They sleep as best they can, alone in the cold and dark, no doggie bodies or snouts to comfort them. They miss Ghost and Darling all the more, now that Hanni is in custody.


End file.
